


Believe Me

by unappetizingegg



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Like LOTS of angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-06-24 07:26:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19718971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unappetizingegg/pseuds/unappetizingegg
Summary: Your typical zombie apocalypse story.





	Believe Me

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story 2 years ago, so it's dated. Wanted to post it anyways. Please ignore any errors, I remember that I wrote half of it in present tense and then went back and changed it entirely to past. There's bound to be a few grammar issues. Enjoy regardless!

“Hands up, where I can see them!”

He obeyed instantly, his arms pulling up above his head, his exhausted muscles trembling from the effort. His shoulders ached with the burn of the movement, but he ignored their protests. He’d grown used to the constant aches and pains that plagued his every waking hour.

“Down on your knees,” the man said, the gun in his hand steady as he held it pointed straight down at him. He was quick to follow orders again, grimacing as his bare knees hit the hard, dry dirt below. More and more people were beginning to gather around, a group of around 10 people. Their leader, or who he assumed to be the one in charge seeing as he was the one speaking, was a tall, wide set black man, his hair shaved down close to his head. He looked like he was in extremely good shape, in sharp contrast of his own rugged, disheveled appearance and physique.

“Scott?”

The voice was quiet, sending a chill through his already cold body. It was high and clear and very recognizable but he had to be hearing things, it just couldn’t be true.

His eyes must have been playing tricks on him too since he could see that carved, angular face and slim frame walking towards him, pushing away from the crowd, ignoring the protests and warnings of his friends. Scott couldn’t look away because if he did, then the man would fade into nothingness, proving to only be an illusion of his mind.

“Mitch?” he choked out suddenly, his thoughts turning dangerously down a path that would surely leave him heartbroken. What if it  _ was  _ Mitch? What if he was not hallucinating like he has been for days now? What if he was real this time?

“Oh my god,” that same high voice cried and suddenly a weight collapsed on top of him, thin arms winding around his neck. That weight pushed him down from his kneeling position, effectively forcing him to sit on his legs, but he couldn’t have given two shits about how uncomfortable and numb his limbs were right then since he has the actual Mitch Grassi sitting in his lap.

A pair of full lips molded into his own and he wasted no time in parting them with his tongue, one hand drifting to the man’s face while the other found his hip. Mitch fell apart in his hands then, pulling away as a broken sob escaped his mouth, his brown eyes full of unshed, emotional tears. He whimpered, kissing Scott again, the kiss shared tamer than the last, before both of his hands skim over Scott’s jaw, their foreheads pressed together. Scott’s own face was wet but he couldn’t tell if it was because of Mitch’s tears or if he was shedding his own. He felt numb. It couldn’t be real.

“You’re burning up,” Mitch stated softly, his hands pressed to the blond’s face, his eyes full of concern and worry. That look was almost enough to send Scott into hysterics. He hadn’t seen him look at him like that in over two years.

Mitch suddenly was turning his head as a voice cuts through their moment, “Mitch, get the fuck away from him.”

It was the burly black guy speaking. His face, which once must have been kind, was full of anger. “He’s sick, please we need to help him,” the boy in his lap pleaded, his tone shrill and strained. Scott had a terrible feeling that everything could go wrong at any second. There were still tons of guns pointed his way, although a few members of the group had lowered theirs as they watch on.

The man didn’t budge one bit, his anger only more evident, “Mitch,  _ get up. _ He’s been bit.”

The man in his lap hesitated, looking at Scott again. The red markings on his arm were oozing blood, an obvious sign that the bite mark was fresh. He was sure that a doctor would be able to tell that it hadn’t been afflicted by a human but to the untrained, cautious eye of this man, it was evidently from a zombie. As soon as their eyes meet the tears are flowing again and Mitch shook his head, asking, “Are you?”

“No,” Scott said, hoping it came across as genuine, “It was a dog. I swear.” He thought that he would die there, shot in front of his best friend, the only person in the entire world that mattered to him, just because he may or may not have been bitten by a zombie.. He would be killed even if he was clean just as a safety measure. This was the end of the road.

“He’s not lying, I know him,” Mitch said, pleading softly, refusing to move from his spot on the ground. His small body was shielding Scott from the line of fire, effectively putting his life on the line as well. “He’s not like that. He would have ended it if he’d been turned.”

“You don’t know how this has changed him. Get your head out of your ass and stand up.”

The boy in his lap hesitated but eventually pushed away, his tears coming faster. As he stood, he stepped into the line of fire, his voice quiet and broken, “You can’t kill him, Kevin.”

“He’s a danger to our family. You know what needs to be done.”

Mitch swallowed heavily, “He was my life before everything went to shit. Just… let him be overnight. If he turns then…” Mitch’s voice wavered and he covered his mouth before composing himself enough to continue, “Then that’s it. If he’s still alive then please, please let me help him. Please, Kevin.”

There was a long moment of silence, and Scott closed his eyes in anticipation. He wanted to say something, to tell Mitch that he loved him, but he was scared that making a sound would be the last straw.

“Fucking… Fine, fine,” Kevin muttered and his arm dropped, the others around him also following suit, “but he’s staying far away from everyone. We’ll chain him to the wall and someone will keep watch at all times. If he turns, he’s dead. Understand?”

“Yes,” Mitch whispered, the word barely audible. He turned back to Scott, who gave him a rough looking smile, his cracked lips stretched thin.

The look of utter despair on the man’s face had Scott speaking up, “Mitchy, I’m going to be okay.”

He nodded absentmindedly, but Scott could tell that his words have no effect. “Promise me you’re clean,” the brunet pushed, his expression twisted as he stood over Scott, “Promise me. I can’t go all night thinking you’ll be okay only to wake up to you…”

“I promise,” Scott said with conviction, his own expression hardening, “I would never put you in danger.”

“I know.”

“Mitch, get back from him for fuck’s sake,” the evident leader of the group called, although his angry tone had calmed slightly. Then his words were directed straight to Scott, “Get up, we’re taking you back. If you try anything funny you’re dead.”

He merely nodded his understanding as Mitch helped him to his feet, stumbling a little as he tried to get his bearings. “Have you had anything to eat recently?” Mitch whispered to him, his hands gripping Scott’s bicep and holding him steady. When he shook his head the man sighs and looked at him sadly, “I don’t know how much I’ll be able to do about that. I’m already pushing my luck. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Scott choked out, stumbling along as the group started to walk. He noticed that the leader, Kevin, doesn’t complain about how close Mitch is again, electing to stay quiet as the two boys talk in whispered tones, “I love you. I can’t believe you’re real. I… you kept popping up in my vision and I thought I was going insane.”

That signature blinding, dimpled smile was enough to give him butterflies. Mitch’s grin could cure cancer, he’s sure. “I love you too.”

The sweet sentiment is cut short when Scott suddenly toppled to the ground, emptying the contents of his stomach once he was on all fours. His vision spun wildly and he coughed, trying to clear his burning throat. He could hear people talking urgently around him but he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes or even to pay attention. The last thing he remembered was face planting in the puddle of his own vomit.

* * *

A crash woke him, his eyes squinting open as bright light from the rising sun fills them. He blinked sleepily, but his sleepy manner was quickly dropped when a growl sounded low in his ear. He flipped onto his back and scrambled away from the noise. He knows that sound anywhere.

Sure enough, when he looked up, he was met by a zombie, its face mutilated and jaw half broken. Its grimy hair was falling off of its darkening, mottled skin, leaving bald spots everywhere. It was crawling on the ground, its legs looking to have been snapped in half.

He was on his feet in milliseconds seeing as the creature was only a foot away. He tried to stumble back but one leg felt weighed down and heavy. When he glanced at it, he had to do a double take to ensure that what he was seeing was real. Sure enough, a heavy metal cuff is locked around his right ankle, chain links tying him to the concrete wall a few feet away.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, staggering back as the thing snarls and pushed forwards again. He hasdvery limited space, his feet slipping on the loose dirt below as he pulls as far away as possible. “Think, think, think,” he muttered, his fists balling up in frustration. He didn’t even know where he was, it was likely that no one else was around. Based on the position of the sun it was only just broken dawn, and yelling for help was dangerous if there were other walkers around.

It was within arms distance now and he did the only thing he could think of; he stomped on one of its arms to pin it down, breaking it as well, before swinging the other leg that had the chain attached so that the heavy metal would loop around the walker’s neck. The thing made a choking sound, stopping in its tracks, and with his free foot, Scott went to town. His worn boot was certainly falling apart but so was the zombie’s skull, brittle bone breaking off and snapping as he stomped the life out of it.

When the adrenaline receded, he stared down at the gory mess under him and then turned to the side and heaved again, only this time there was absolutely nothing in his sore stomach. He fell to his knees, retching and coughing and feeling like his insides were about to be vomited out. Bile dripped from his lips and he spit, wincing as the acidic substance spatters the dirt.

He felt his eyes droop as the adrenaline dropped and his body began to screech with pain. He couldn’t help the broken noise that left his throat, curling up in a fetal position as reality sets in. He could have died. He almost just did. If he hadn’t have woken up, that would’ve been it for him.

Then he remembered Mitch. If he had been bit just now, he’d never get to say goodbye. He’d just found him again and losing him so soon felt unfair in the worst possible way.

Tears slipped down from his eyes. He wanted to be back home, cuddled up in his room, his boyfriend snug against him as they watched some stupid animated movie that Scott hated but Mitch absolutely loved. He’s watched so many Japanese films with subtitles that made his head hurt all because they made Mitch happy, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

He wanted to see his mom again, his dad, his sisters. They were all gone. He’d watched his father die and lost track of his mother in the chaos. His sisters were both out of the house at that point and he had no idea if they were still alive or not, but he tried not to keep his hopes up. Mitch, though… he’d always had a feeling he’d made it, for some reason. Maybe he just desperately wanted it to be true but his gut told him that he was alive. And now he was here, and Mitch was here, and he’d almost just  _ died _ .

The sound of a door creaking open had him pushing onto one elbow to see from where someone was approaching from. A figure rounded the corner, not looking the slightest bit disturbed until their eyes fell onto the mess of blood and brains Scott was laying next to, the deformed body of the walker crushed into the dirt floor beneath it. “Holy shit,” the man breathed, his deep voice quiet and shocked. Long, wavy brown hair was tied up into a bun at the back of his head, his beard similarly long and unruly. He had milky skin much like Scott’s own and his green eyes are wide as he surveys the situation.

It was then that Scott realized how bad the situation might actually look. He was covered in blood, lying on the ground and in obvious pain. If he were an observer, he’d think the man on the ground in his position had been bitten.

“I’m safe, please, please don’t kill me,” he sobbed, his tears from before doubling as reality hit him square in the face. There was no way he was getting out of this one. If they didn’t believe that he’d been bitten by a dog they wouldn’t believe him now.

The man standing in front of him raised a hand slowly, taking a step forward. “Calm down, I’m gonna get you some help, alright? Don’t move.”

Scott was about to give a snappy response along the lines of “I’m fucking chained to a wall what do you think I’m going to do?”, but he kept his mouth shut. He still didn’t know how people would react to him covered in zombie blood and being an asshole might only make things worse.

He was so zoned out that he didn’t realize he was alone again until he was not. A few more people came out, also staring at him, their mouths open in shock. The chief, Scott had forgotten his name, was standing in front of him as well, but instead of shock he looks angered. Scott decided that he really needed Mitch to get there as fast as he could because otherwise he might not have a chance.

“Get up,” the chief said, his words sharp and powerful enough to have Scott pushing his weak body into a sitting position. He tried his best to get his feet under him but he clutched his head when he was finally on his feet, toppling to the side again and landing heavily on his shoulder. He grimaced, groaning as his shoulder stung, the pain travelling down his spine. There were hands pulling him back to a sitting position, and he looked over the woman who was helping. She was pale just like the other man who’d found him, her hair similarly brown but extremely straight in contrast. She was thin and mousy, but not short, her limbs long and slim. She reminded him of Mitch.

“He’s sick, we need to help him Kevin,” she said quietly.

Kevin’s lip curled a little more before he sighs heavily, “Get away from him. If he wasn’t bitten before he is now.”

“No, no! Wait, no no no, please I’m not,” Scott says, his words starting to get louder, more desperate. He flinches wildly, falling back when the same gun from before is pointed in his general direction, the safety clicking loudly, “Oh fuck, no, please. Please don’t shoot.”

“Kevin stop thinking with your dick,” the woman hisses, her kind features instantly morphing as her frustration takes over, “Think a little! What are you going to get out of this? A pissed off, broken Mitch. I know that’s not what you want.”

Scott looks over at him and is surprised to see that his anger has subdued, his gaze directed towards his feet.

Just then, Mitch burst through the door that’s hidden behind the corner, his shrill voice piercing the otherwise dead quiet atmosphere. When his figure comes into view, he’s obviously distressed and just rolled out of bed, his hair messy and his legs bare, only a pair of boxers and a giant t-shirt covering him. He takes one look at Scott and sprints over on bare feet, squatting down next to him, ignoring the pile of vomit and walker guts only a few feet away. He looks as if he’s about to say something to Scott but his features pinch with anger and he glares up at Kevin instead. “You almost had him killed. Was that your master plan all along?”

Kevin sighed, slumping a bit, “No. I don’t kill people, Mitch.”

“You tied him to a wall and left him to die,” the brunet spit back venomously, “He could have been bit.”

“I’m not, it didn’t, I swear,” Scott chokes out suddenly, his hysterics in full force, “I’m not infected. Fuck.”

Mitch’s expression softens and he pulls Scott close, ignoring the blood and gore covering his clean shirt, “I believe you Scotty, no one’s going to hurt you. I’m not going to let them. You’re safe with me. I’m not losing you again.”

“We need to check him, Mitch,” Kevin warns quietly, his harsh demeanor from earlier squashed to become much more subdued.

“If he said he wasn’t bit, then he wasn’t bit,” Mitch spits back.

The dark-skinned man sighs loudly, “I’m not saying he was. He could have been without realizing it. He may not be either. Either way, if he’s staying, which it seems like he is, then we need to look over him.”

That has everyone quiet and definitely confuses Scott. When did this man turn around and how hadn’t he noticed it? Not that he minded, of course.

“Right, let’s get him back to the infirmary then,” the woman from before says, breaking the silence. Mitch nods slowly, obviously still shocked by Kevin’s sudden change of heart.

Scott is unlocked and helped up, Mitch on one side, cooing sweet, reassuring words to him, and the woman on the other. They slowly head to the door hidden around the corner, and it’s then that Scott begins to realize that this building must be an abandoned school of some sorts.

The double doors now in front of them are painted a dull blue, the colour of the sky on a cloudy day. Scott almost felt as if he was walking back into Martin on the first day of senior year, with Mitch by his side.

He could remember that day clearly. They had just been friends then, but in Scott’s head they were so much more. They acted like boyfriends, just without the sexual intimacy that usually came with that label, and even that was dropped at points.

Mitch was Scott’s first  _ real _ kiss. He’d kissed people before but he always counted Mitch as his first. He’d been pretty sure he was gay by the time he’d hit grade 9 but at that point he’d never actually tried anything. Mitch changed that when he’d also entered high school a year later.

They drifted through the dimly lit hallways, which were in better condition than Scott would have previously thought. It appeared that this group of people kept this area clean and well cared for. That or it was rarely used. The walls were a beige colour, the floor tiled a similar tone although a bit darker, black trim separating them. No windows were to be found but fluorescent green lights lit the space. Scott couldn’t remember the last time he’s seen somewhere with electricity.

He was steered into a tiny room with a cream coloured door and sat on a elevated bench with a white sheet over it. It was a proper doctor’s office, which made sense since the school had to have had a nurse of some sort. The woman and the man who had first found him, who had joined then without Scott noticing, began bustling around, while Mitch sat himself down on the chair closest to the bench.

He was poked and prodded and force fed food for the next hour, before finally being bandaged and stitched up. The dog bite on his forearm would scar up and forever be a reminder of the past little while, but he was told it would calm with time.

“So,” the woman said, giving him a comforting yet also ingenuine smile as she wrapped one last layer of gauze around the area, “obviously you two know each other. What’s your name again?”

“Scott.”

She stopped, eyes wide, “Oh my God, you’re Scott?!” He stared at her, unsure of how to reply, “Sorry I just… I knew you were someone Mitchy knew and everything but I didn’t think…”

“Es wasn’t with us when we found you,” Mitch said softly as an explanation, “She works morning guard shifts and was resting then. And yes, this is Scott. I’ve told them a lot about you.”

He didn’t really know what to say to that, so he just shut up. The other man cut in with his deep voice, “I’m going to get Kevin. He’s going to want to talk to you all and sort this out.”

Mitch sighed audibly, his amused expression drooping, “I really don’t want to have to deal with him right now.”

Esther gave him a look, “Oh come on, you’ll be fine. He loves you.”

The brunet merely nodded absentmindedly, taking one of Scott’s hands in his own and drawing little intricate patterns over his rough skin. Scott wanted to ask but he was too tired to care. He wanted to communicate this as his eyes drooped, so he murmured, “Tired.”

“I know baby, I’m not surprised,” Mitch replied in a hushed voice, “Why don’t you lie down? I’ll wake you up when we need you. Try to get some more rest to help you body heal. We can talk later, I’m not going anywhere.”

With Mitch’s approval, Scott flattened out on the bench that was entirely too small for him and was out cold within seconds, the eventful morning finally catching up to him.

* * *

When he woke, he was lying on a bed. A real, mattress covered bed frame, with real linen sheets and a quilt tucked over him. He blinked, the dark room having absolutely no light sources except for the small sliver coming from under the door.

He sat up wearily, his whole body aching. He didn’t see Mitch and it almost caused him to panic but he forced himself to breath and look around a bit more.

There was an oil lamp on the bedside table, which was technically a repurposed student desk. He grabbed the lighter there as well and let the soft, orange light fill the room. He was practically naked, stripped down to his ratted, disgusting underwear. He’d done his best to wash them in rivers and lakes but it was tough when you didn’t have any soap. Speaking of soap, he wondered if maybe these people had a bath he could use. Or even if they had clean water.

He stood and shuffled over to his old clothes, which were folded in a neat little pile on the ground. Pulling them on clumsily, he did up his belt and then shuffled to the door, cracking it open.

It was bright in the hall, but no one was present. Not a single person. Scott stepped out carefully, looking back and forth, up and down the hallway, but still, no signs of life. He had a brief little fantasy moment that he’d fallen into a coma only to wake up 100 years later, and everyone was gone, but that panic about to consume him was crushed when he heard voices rounding the nearest corner.

He stared as two people turned to meet him, both falling quiet when they saw him standing there. They all looked at each other for a good 5 seconds before the blond woman, with her hair cropped short in a bob, stepped up and said, “Scott, right?” He nodded tentatively, scared that he was in trouble for leaving the room, but she smiled genuinely and said, “Here, we can take you to Mitch, he’s been so anxious waiting for you to wake up. Can you walk?”

“Yeah,” he rasped out, coughing to clear his throat. He felt a little confined as they sidled up on either side of him, flanking him, but they didn’t press close or grab him. He thought they might just be doing it because he looked like death and was about to fall over.

The halls were pretty much all the same, drab walls and repetitive floors drawing them towards their target. They rounded into what was the old cafeteria, the tables still sprawled out everywhere, a decent amount of floor space left off to the side. A big group of people were seated together, talking and chatting. He spotted Mitch leaning on Esther’s shoulder, his eyes drooped. The boy looked exhausted.

The woman next to him got the brunet’s attention and suddenly those drooping eyes went wide and he shot to his feet, sprinting over. He latched onto Scott, burying his face into the blond’s neck, breathing him in despite how bad the man must’ve smelled. Thin, lithe legs wrapped around Scott’s waist and he easily held his man under the thighs, gripping him close. Even in his weak state, Scott was able to keep himself upright with the extra weight.

Mitch did pull away after a minute, making a face, a twinkle in his eye, “Okay, you need a shower. Badly.”

Scott laughed lightly, kissing his cheek and making the man squirm, “Thanks, babe. But yeah, that would be nice. I’m guessing you guys even have soap?”

“We do, it’s incredible,” Mitch mused, hopping down and grabbing his hand. He waved vaguely in the direction of the others, who called back goodbyes to him before tugging Scott off to the showers.

It felt good to have someone else wash him. Small hands, smaller than his own, rubbed through his long, muddy hair and over his battered body, gently taking away the evidence of the struggle the last few years had been. They couldn’t keep their hands off of eachother. Scott gasped into Mitch’s mouth when one of those hands trailed down and gripped his cock, which had sprung to life from the touching, stroking him slowly. “Aren’t these public washrooms, babe?” the blond asked with a laugh, not doing much to stop Mitch, pulling him in close by the hips and gripping his skinny waist.

The boy hummed and pecked him lovingly on the lips once, twice, before pulling back and dropping his hand as well, “We can go to my room. Hurry, I’ve missed you.”

They were still damp when they landed on Mitch’s bed, laughing and sighing into eachother. Scott gritted his teeth as he watched them join together, eyes falling shut and head tilting back with a gasp as Mitch sunk lower. The brunet was struggling a little bit and said, “Been so long. Fuck. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Scott mumbled, grunting when Mitch expertly rose up before falling down again, swallowing him up, “I…  _ fuck _ , I thought you were alive. Always knew you were. Daydreamed about you being happy and loved and now you’re here and I get to love you again.  _ Fuck! _ ”

There were tears streaming down his face as Mitch hushed him, his own face wet as he smiled down at him, “You’re too good for me. You’re perfect.”

“No, you’re too good for me,” the blond said, his voice strained as he shifted and started to help Mitch maintain the deep grind they had going, “Thought I was seeing an angel when I saw you. I thought I was dead because you’re too perfect. I could stare at you all day.”

“Kiss me,” Mitch said, panting, leaning down and allowing Scott to press their lips together.

It didn’t last long, both so used to being neglected that it happened very suddenly. Scott was glad he could hold out to get Mitch there first, he wanted to make him happy.

They lay together afterwards, Mitch’s slim finger tracing tantalizing patterns across his chest. Scott snorted when he felt his left nipple being flicked and shook his head, “Gonna need a bit longer before I can get going again. My stamina has really gone down.”

“Just wanted to touch you,” Mitch mumbled, kissing his collarbone, “You’re still so handsome. Missed you so much, Scott. I love you.”

“What a coincidence. I love you too.”

* * *

Mitch was on a mission. He rounded the corner and walked back into the caf, smiling when a few people waved and welcomed him. He walked up to Kevin and stood next to him until the man glanced over with a sheepish smile, “Oh, hey.”

“He needs clothes.”

That smile dropped, replaced with a more serious look, “He didn’t have clothes before?”

Mitch rolled his eyes, huffing out a breath to calm himself, “He had a shower and his old clothes are dirty. He needs new ones.”

“When did he shower?” Kevin asked, eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know, a while ago?” 

There was hatred in the man’s tone, “What, did you show him the way? Give him a thorough tour?”

Mitch grimaced and clenched his fists, “Ah, I see why you have a stick up your ass.”

“I don’t have-”

“Would you just shut the fuck up!” he spat, “What, do you really want to know that we fucked? Because we did! Congrats! Hope that makes you feel loads better!” He sighed at Kevin’s hurt expression, rubbing his face with frustration, “Listen, I care about you. I know that this is hard for you but I love him. I’ve loved him since I was 14 and I can’t just forget about that. I’m trying to protect you. I don’t want to flaunt our relationship in your face but you’re making that hard by acting like a conceited and entitled prick. I’m not your property, or your boyfriend, I’m sorry.”

Mitch was almost mad at himself for his outburst, especially considering there were other people right by listening to them, but everyone and their mother knew about Kevin’s thing for him, so he just couldn’t find the energy to care anymore. He was exhausted with having to fight his new best friend on these things. He didn’t think the man, who he had presumed to be entirely straight, would ever develop feelings for him, but considering the amount of time they had spent together, he shouldn’t have been that surprised.

“Kevin,” he started again, looking straight into the man’s eyes, “He’s not stealing me away. I was never yours and you know that, you just… you could pretend before and I know that that’s why this is even harder for you. But I…” There were tears in his eyes and his words came out muffled and choked, “I just got the love of my life back and he’s in such rough shape and I really need you there to help me, to help him. Please. I’m sorry you’re hurting. I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you, but I need you. Please just let go, just for a bit, so you can help. Please.”

There was a pause before the man got to his feet and strong arms circled around Mitch’s skinny waist, pulling him close. He huffed out a watery laugh and buried his face in his best friend’s shirt, inhaling and exhaling slowly.

* * *

They were back in the washroom, although this time it was with a razor and a pair of scissors.

“I sort of like this beard on you,” Mitch confessed with a pout, the razor in one hand while the other scratch as the prickly scruff on the side of Scott’s neck, “You look so… handsome. I don’t know. Maybe I have a thing for hair.”

“Yeah, well, I can keep it if you want,” Scott said with a shrug, “If you don’t mind it. I just thought…”

“Hm?”

“Well, didn’t it feel weird when I ate you out just now?”

Mitch’s cheeks turned rosy, “I kinda liked it, honestly.”

“Oh, you really are a kinky bitch, huh?”

“Scott,” the burnet whined, embarrassed.

“Okay, okay, and I’ll keep the beard, but let's trim it down,” he replied with a quiet laugh, hand scooting over Mitch’s knee. They were straddling a changing bench, facing each other.

“Do you want me to? Or do you want to instead.”

“I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Scott hummed, holding still as the clippers came to life and buzzed, the sound fading into the background as Mitch gripped his chin and got to work. He had had a beard for so long now that having the skin of his chin and jaw exposed felt strange, like he was becoming a totally different person. He wasn’t reverting back to young Scott, an inexperienced, worried teenager with very little self confidence, but he wasn’t angry, tough as nails Scott either. This was a new era for him, one with Mitch, one where he felt happy. He hadn’t had hope for so long, and to finally experience those positive emotions again was incredible.

Mitch also cut his hair down, not going too far, but trying his best to salvage the mess that was the top of his head. “I’m amazed you kissed me when you found me,” Scott commented, looking into the mirror that was beside them, “I look hideous.”

“Well, you’ve always been hideous, so not much has changed.”

“Oh, ha ha, very funny.”

“You love it. Don’t start with me.”

“I love you.”

Mitch smiled, pausing his efforts to combs through his partner’s hair. He leaned in and pecked his lips, “I love you too. You are my soulmate. I was convinced my heart had shattered into a million pieces and that I would never love again. Something brought us back together, I’m sure of it.”

Scott just snorted and kissed him again, this one much more passionate and involved than the simple peck from before.

When they parted, Mitch looked dazed, “If you keep kissing me like that, we’re going to have to take a break from this and take care of business.”

“I’m totally okay with that,” Scott murmured, kissing the corner of Mitch’s mouth and scooting closer, one hand cupping his jaw and the other running through his partner’s hair, “We haven’t been able to take care of business for a long time. I say we make up some lost time.”

“You horny bastard, you’re just trying to get me back into bed,” Mitch said with faux indignation, the grin on his face breaking the facade.

“Is it working?”

A pause as Scott kissed down to his neck, Mitch humming encouragingly, “Perhaps. Maybe we should go back to my room to see.”

“Maybe we should.”

“But actually, if we are taking care of business right now, we need to leave. I’m not fucking in here, it’s gross.”

“Anything and everything for my queen.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
